“Ja, I kept imagining the worst.” He peered at Mercy. “Is...is she better?”
“Much better, and I’ll be discharging her shortly. However, I’d like some way to get hold of you in a hurry if the remaining lab results come back with anything alarming.” He held up a hand. “I don’t anticipate that happening, but I’ll need some way to reach you. Do you have a neighbor with a phone?”
“Ja. They don’t live next door, but they’re not far away.”
“Do you know their phone number?”
“No, but I can get it.”
“Then here’s my business card. That way if something comes up, you can reach me.”
“Ja, sure.” Levy slipped the card into a pocket.
“Now let’s discuss follow-up care...”
He spent several minutes relating what additional symptoms to watch for, and urged Levy to bring the baby in for a follow-up appointment at the hospital’s attached clinic the next week.
“I have a question,” said Jane. “Levy sells produce at the farmer’s market on Saturdays. It’s helpful to have another person work the booth with him, so I bring Mercy and help when needed, though most of the time he’s the one interacting with customers. Would it be all right to bring Mercy to the farmer’s market by Saturday, or is it better for us to stay home?”
“Assuming she acts healthy and shows no signs of additional problems, I see no reason why you can’t resume your normal activities,” said the doctor. “However, I wouldn’t let anyone else hold her.”
Levy looked relieved. “Thank you. That will be a big help.”
“Can she go outside?” persisted Jane. “The reason I ask is the nurse mentioned the fever probably didn’t come from sunstroke, but I want to make sure I’m not making anything worse. Is it okay to bring her outside? I put her on a blanket in the shade. Otherwise I’ll keep her in the house.”
“No, by all means feel free to bring her outside. But yes, keep her fully in the shade, especially since it’s been so hot lately.”
“Danke.”
The doctor smiled and shook both their hands. “Check out at the registration desk before you go, and we’ll see you in a week.”
Levy picked up the diaper bag. Jane slipped Mercy into the sling and walked out of the room that had seen such drama in the last twenty-four hours.
Leaning back in the buggy seat, Jane sighed as Levy clucked to the horse and guided her out of the hospital parking lot. “I’m glad that’s over. I don’t like hospitals.”
“Neither do I. Ach, what a rotten night I had, not knowing what was going on. I can’t imagine it was any better for you.”
“Actually, it probably was. I didn’t get much sleep, of course, but at least I knew what was going on.” Jane peered at Mercy, snug against her chest in the sling. “Remind me to thank the Englisch neighbor who drove us in yesterday. I was so distracted I didn’t even catch his name.”
“Well, we have to talk to him anyway to ask him to leave his phone number with the hospital, so that would be a good time.”
“I’ll bring him baked goods or jam in thanks.”
“Just so you know, I let your aunt and uncle know you were at the hospital last night.”
“Danke! I forgot all about them. I’m glad you let them know.” She fell silent a moment and watched the town transition from city streets to rural roads. “So how far behind did you fall on the farm work?”
“It’s going to be a challenge to have enough for Saturday’s farmer’s market,” he admitted. “Between the rain and the hospital, a lot of this week was shot. I’m trying not to worry about money.”
“What can I do to help?” she said. “I can’t leave Mercy alone in the house, of course, and I don’t want to expose her to full sunshine after what happened, but is there anything I can do to be—” she paused over her word choice “—useful?”
“The raspberry jam will be a huge help. If you can continue picking raspberries and turning them into jam, that would be wonderful. Whatever jam doesn’t sell can be held until the following week, since it won’t go bad. But with the amount of raspberries coming in at the moment, it’s the only way to use them up. I’ll pick some for selling fresh on Friday.”
“Ja, I’ll keep making raspberry jam then. But I’ll make sure to pick them earlier in the day before it gets terribly hot.”
Levy sighed, then asked Jane, “What about this evening? You’ve been on duty nonstop for thirty-six hours with the baby at the hospital. Should I take you straight home?”
Every instinct cried out for rest, but Jane knew Levy was already overstressed, and she wouldn’t feel right going home while he watched Mercy. “I have an idea,” she offered. “Let’s go by your place first and let me pick up that portable crib and some other things for the baby, then take us both to my aunt and uncle’s. She can spend the night with me. That way my aunt can fuss over her while I get cleaned up, and I’ll be able to keep an eye on her all night.”
“Ja, that would be great.” Levy spoke with obvious relief. “Danke.”
Half an hour later, having picked up what she needed for the baby, Levy pulled the horse to a stop in front of the Troyers’ home. Her aunt popped out of the house. “You’re here!”
“Guder nammidaag, Tante Catherine.” Jane gave Mercy to Levy while she climbed out of the buggy, then took the child while he hopped down and unloaded the baby supplies. “I’m going to keep Mercy here for the night, if that’s all right with you.”
“Ja! Of course! Here, I’ll take the boppli.” She took the child into her experienced arms and started cooing at the tiny alert face.
“I’ll be over tomorrow around seven in the morning,” Jane told Levy. “That way I can start picking raspberries before it gets too hot.”
“Ja, danke. Vielen Dank for everything.” He gave her a long look, filled with something Jane didn’t understand, then clucked to the horse and started down the road.
She stared after him for a moment, then turned to her aunt.
Catherine looked at Jane hard. “Seems like you’ve been awake all night. Am I right?”
“Close to it, ja.” She punctuated this by a huge yawn. “I didn’t even sleep in a bed, but held Mercy all night in a rocking chair.”
Her aunt nodded with the wisdom of experience. “I’ve done that, though never in a hospital room. Come inside. I know your uncle wants to hear everything that happened.”
Over dinner, with Mercy secure in her bouncy seat on the table, Jane related the last twenty-four hours. “With Mercy’s hospitalization and his primary source of income at the moment coming from the farmer’s market, he’s stressed about money.”
“It’s up to Levy to figure out his finances,” Peter said firmly.
“Your uncle is right.” Catherine took a bite and spoke with her mouth full. “If Levy’s going to keep this little boppli, he’s going to have to figure out how to juggle all his commitments.”
Her aunt paused for a moment, then continued. “I wonder if he’s waiting for Eliza to come back?” she mused. “I mean, clearly he’s nurturing some sort of hope for his sister’s redemption.”
“That young woman who didn’t see the need to be baptized,” growled Uncle Peter with uncharacteristic hostility. “She could have married Josiah Lapp, who’s a fine youngie, but instead she left Grand Creek for the Englisch world and now Josiah is interested in the Miller girl.”
Jane’s ears pricked up. “Did this Josiah Lapp lead her on or anything?”
“Nein, just the opposite. Eliza was something of a flirt, but Josiah was stuck on her something fierce. When she left, it took him a while to get over it.”
Perhaps Jane’s sympathies should lie more with Josiah than with Eliza, since she too had been jilted by the person she loved. Well, she could hardly call it jilted if Isaac had never realized she was in love with him. Still, she fel
t a stirring interest in Eliza’s fate.
“Well, whatever happened, she had a beautiful baby.” Jane touched Mercy, and the infant immediately clasped her finger with a tiny hand. “She’s such a joy to take care of. When she’s not spiking a fever, that is.”
Catherine chuckled. “You always had a gift for babies. Maybe someday...”
For once Jane didn’t feel the familiar stab of pain. “Maybe someday I’ll get married and have some of my own?”
“I’m sorry, child, I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Don’t worry. You reminded me what I’d forgotten for a bit, that I should turn my future over to Gott. I’m willing to wait and see what He has in store for me,” Jane said, then added, “And that’s the first time I’ve felt optimistic about it too.”
“Gott works in mysterious ways,” Peter told her. “And who knows, maybe He’ll restore Eliza back to the community, in which case she can raise her own baby.”
Jane thought about the mysterious Eliza as she prepared for bed. She settled Mercy into her portable crib and slid between the sheets, watching the baby, grateful she seemed fully recuperated from her illness.
How would she feel if Eliza suddenly returned and claimed the baby as her own? She had every right to raise her own child, but Jane knew it would be a difficult thing to stop caring for this infant who had come to mean so much to her.
Along with Levy.
Jane rolled over and stared at the dark ceiling. Crickets chirped outside her open window, and she heard the hoot of an owl from a distance. She blasted herself for falling in love with another man like Isaac, who only saw her as “useful.”
What was the matter with her that she could be “useful” but not lovable?
Chapter Eleven
Uncle Peter drove her and Mercy to Levy’s farm the next morning, since Jane couldn’t walk there while carrying the baby equipment and the baby.
“Danke,” she told her uncle as he unloaded the portable crib, diaper bag and bouncy seat on Levy’s front porch. “I’ll be home this afternoon.”
Levy wasn’t in the house. Jane walked through the quiet home, noting dirty dishes in the sink and a small pile of laundry on the floor. She smiled despite herself at his clear lack of domestic skills.
Before doing anything else, though, she carried buckets, a blanket and the baby outside to harvest raspberries before the day got too hot. She settled Mercy in the shade and began picking.
By the time Levy returned from the fields, the sun was high and her buckets were full. Mercy’s diaper needed changing, and the baby began making noises indicating she was about to go into a full-fledged crying jag until her belly was filled.
“Here, I’ll take the berries,” offered Levy. “You take care of Mercy.”
“Ja, danke, she’s hungry and wet.” Jane picked up the baby and returned to the house. She changed her diaper and settled into a rocking chair with a bottle of formula.
“No problems?” Levy settled onto a chair near the rocker as the baby nursed.
“Nein, she slept all night. Whatever caused the fever, it doesn’t seem to be causing any additional problems.”
He sighed with a relief Jane fully understood. “I’m grateful to Gott it wasn’t worse. I don’t know what I’d have said to Eliza if something happened to Mercy.”
“And you have no possible way to get in touch with your sister? No address?”
“No.” He stood up and returned to the kitchen. “I’m going to make myself a sandwich and get back outside. I have a lot to do to get ready for the farmer’s market.”
“I’ll make jam this afternoon.”
“Ja, danke.”
Within a few minutes, he was gone and the house fell silent.
When Mercy fell asleep after her bottle, Jane laid the baby in her crib and commenced a quick housecleaning, ending with hanging laundry on the line. Then she started to make the raspberry jam.
* * *
Levy was grateful Jane arrived a bit earlier than normal on Saturday morning. “I’ve got your jars of raspberry jam already packed,” he told her. “If you can take care of the baby, I’ll finish loading the wagon.”
“Ja, let me have her.” He handed Mercy into her capable arms, and Jane slipped the infant into the sling.
“I’ve got a few more crates to pack, then we can be on our way,” he added.
“What can I do?”
“I don’t have Mercy’s diaper bag or the lunch hamper packed. Can you work on those?”
“Ja, sure.” She disappeared into the kitchen. He paused for a moment to admire her figure in the tidy green dress, then continued loading crates of lettuce and early carrots, flats of raspberries, fresh corn and tomatoes. In plenty of time, he was able to get the wagon on the road.
“Mercy seems fully recuperated.” Levy guided the horse through an intersection. “But the back of the booth is well-shaded, and you might want to keep Mercy there rather than expose her to the crowds.”
“Ja,” agreed Jane. “I don’t want her to pick up any germs.”
“She’s fortunate you’re here to care for her.” Levy kept his eyes on the horse’s ears. The compliment fell clumsily from his lips. He covered the awkward moment by adding, “Still, I think I’m going to ask you to conduct a small experiment whenever Mercy is napping. How would you like to act as a scout?”
“A scout?” She glanced at him. “What do you mean?”
“I mean someone who can walk around the market. I’m always so busy at the booth that I seldom get to see what other people are selling.”
“Are you thinking in terms of adding to your booth’s inventory?”
“Ja, something like that.” Finances had been on his mind a lot. “I have the hospital bills to pay off, so I want to learn what other things besides produce sell. Your jam is selling so well that I’m thinking it’s time to go beyond just fruits and vegetables.”
Jane chuckled. “So you want me to be an undercover spy.”
He smiled. “Exactly.”
“I’d be happy to. I’ll wait until the crowds are thickest, and I’ll see what people are buying the most of.”
“Danke.”
The next few hours were busy. Following the unspoken pattern from the last few weekends, he set up the booth while Jane unloaded crates of produce. Once the booth was assembled, she joined him in stocking the display units.
“Here, you might like this.” He held up a hand-lettered sign. “I made it last night.”
“‘Fresh Homemade Raspberry Jam,’” Jane read out loud. “‘Meet the Expert Jam-Maker in Person.’” Her eyes crinkled in amusement. “Do you think it will help?”
“Can’t hurt.” He grinned and hung the sign over the jars of ruby-red jam.
Then, as customers started trickling and then flooding the market, he switched on his consummate salesman personality.
“It’s like you become a whole different man,” Jane said to him during a lull.
“What do you mean?”
“When customers come into the booth, it’s like you flip a switch. You’re teasing and talkative, but without being obnoxious or pushy.”
So she’d noticed. Levy couldn’t help but be pleased. “Do you wish I could stay that way all the time?”
“No. It’s effective while selling something, but it’s not who you are. I... I like the other man better. The real you.” She looked away, her cheeks turning pink.
A group of customers entered the booth and distracted him. He began to talk with them, while thinking about Jane’s shy blush. He found he liked the idea of making her blush.
* * *
Jane stayed in the back of the booth, keeping Mercy in her sling unless she had to feed or diaper her, and watched as fruits and vegetables disappeared with magical speed. Levy had to constantly restock his inventory.
She hadn’t meant to reveal that she liked the real Levy. The words just came out. She was glad when some customers had distracted him. Least said, soonest mended, as her mother always observed.
At a time when Mercy was sleeping in her basket and the crowds were at their heaviest, Levy gave her a nod and she slipped out of the booth. She avoided the Amish booths because she knew they sold similar items, but she was curious about the Englisch booths.
It was an eye-opener. Creative entrepreneurs sold everything from baked goods to soaps to knitted items to crafts, even gourmet dog biscuits.
Several items caught her eye as something Levy could do. She saw gift baskets packed with edible goodies, both fresh and baked, which sold briskly.
And eggs. Why wasn’t Levy selling eggs? She saw cartons of farm-fresh eggs in nearly every bag a customer carried.
And potted plants. Jane saw a booth selling potted herbs that was busy with customers.
And baked goods. Cookies, breads, rolls, muffins, cupcakes and other items sold well.
And cut flowers. Women bought them in bulk.
And packages of dried herbs. Jane knew Levy grew some herbs, but he didn’t sell any. Why not?
And dried glass gem corn. Jane knew this variety grew well in Indiana. People seemed to like it for decorative purposes. Levy didn’t have any growing, but perhaps next year...
Her mind buzzed with the potential of how Levy could expand his sales. If he had hospital bills to pay off, he could put a lot more items up for sale and earn more money.
She returned to the booth in time to help him handle another surge of customers. “Yes, those are $2.99 a pound,” she told a lady, slipping behind the table. She paused to check on Mercy, who slept soundly in her carrier basket, and turned back to the customer.
To her surprise, his signage drawing attention to the “Expert Jam-Maker” had garnered much more attention than she’d anticipated. Many people, mostly Englisch women, asked her how she made it. Jane was floored. Who didn’t know how to make raspberry jam?
Amish Baby Lessons Page 12